"By the body o' Bacchus, thou art no better than a horned owl to say so! But keep your rapiers ready, sirs; for yonder is a tall fellow who seems disposed to bar the way."
"Where? ventre bleu!" exclaimed d'Elboeuff, drawing his sword.
"Where?—where?" asked the others.
"Why, right on the crown of the causeway; and, fore Heaven! he doth seem a marvellously tall fellow."
"By cock and pie! 'tis the city cross, thou blind bat!"
"Right, Ormiston!" replied Bothwell; "but his reverence is so drunk that he knows not a cross from a cow. Past midnight? soh! a famous hour for such regular men as we to be strolling along the streets, like knights of the post; and thou, bully Hob, art without thine armour."
"I have a pyne doublet that would turn the bolt of an arblast—double quilted."
"The streets are dull, and I am very sleepy," stammered Coldinghame.
"Speak not of sleep, my Lord Privy Seal," said the Earl; "for we have a notable brawl to make yet. We must show these rascally bailies that their night-watch and captains of the thirty wards had no reference to us, who are lords and barons of Parliament."
"Thou hast ever some wicked thought in thy gomeral's costard. A brawl! with whom, pray?"